


and we can really, really climb

by likewinning



Series: little beasts [18]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, whole lotta trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4259802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's only," he says. "You should know. Even if Bruce gets sick of you, you're not going anywhere."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we can really, really climb

**Author's Note:**

> more trash for my fave ohmcgee. this is.... not really what you asked for, doll, but hopefully you like it anyway.

"Should I go?" Jason asks. A pair of Bruce's sweats hang loose around his hips while he stands over the stove, and the collar of his shirt is so stretched out Dick can see a necklace of hickeys there.

"Why would you do that?" Dick asks. He steps toward the stove to see what Jason's cooking, smells bacon and sausage and pancakes. "I mean, neither of us can cook. We might starve."

Jason snorts. "How the hell either of you survived before, I'll never know."

"Cereal and take-out," Dick says. He pours himself a glass of OJ and hops up on the counter. "It used to be Poptarts, too, but there was a minor incident."

Jason turns to look at him, raises an eyebrow. "Wow. And you guys are in charge of shit."

Dick shrugs. "Our livelihood doesn't depend on our cooking skills."

"Hn," Jason says. He turns back to the stove, works in silence for a bit until he has a stack of pancakes and a plate full of sausage and bacon. "I only meant," he says then, turning off the stove, "You and Bruce, you've had that building up for a while, right? If I'm in the way – "

"You're not," Dick says, maybe too quickly. He helps Jason bring the food to the table; it's early for Dick, only ten or so, which means it's anyone's guess if Bruce will be awake any time soon to join them. He starts piling food on his plate, covers everything in syrup and butter.

"I could go," Jason says a few minutes later, as if Dick never cut him off. "Turning tricks where I was wasn't so bad. I was staying with this dealer –"

"Hey," Dick says. Jason looks up from his food. He's still too skinny and his hair's too long, but just in the last couple days that he's been here, the circles under his eyes have gone away. "You like it here, don't you?" Dick asks, and Jason says, "Yeah, man, I do."

"Then shut up, okay? You're not going anywhere, Jaybird."

Jason full-on _blushes_ at the name, but Dick doesn't call him on it, just says, "This is good. Where'd you learn to cook?"

Jason shrugs. "Can't get by with just a pretty face that sucks cock. Sometimes you gotta pick up a more useful trade."

"Is that right?" Dick asks. He remembers Roy telling him something similar once, wonders if they ever ran in the same circles – wonders, a little, if he'd lose Roy to this kid, too.

"Something like that," Jason says.

They're quiet while they eat, and once they're done Jason starts gathering plates to clean up, but Dick comes around the table, wraps his syrup-sticky fingers around Jason's skinny wrist, maybe a little harder than necessary.

Jason stares at him, and Dick realizes he should probably _say_ something. "It's only," he says. "You should know. Even if Bruce gets sick of you, you're not going anywhere."

Jason smirks, but his eyes are more scared punk than killer in training. "I'm not?"

"No." Dick brings Jason's hand to his mouth, licks the syrup from each finger until Jason's biting down on his lip, rocking on his feet. He runs his free hand through Dick's hair and says, "Jesus, you're like a fuckin' work of art, man."

Dick kisses his wrist, digs his nails deep into Jason's arm just to hear him suck in a sharp breath. "What do you know about art, huh?"

"Snuck into a museum a few times," Jason says with a shrug. "You play your cards right, they're safe places to sleep."

The part of Dick's heart he thought didn't exist aches a little for this kid. He leans in close, rubs his nose against Jason's neck and smells Bruce. "I'll take you to see some real art sometime," he promises. "We'll set the stuff we don't like on fire."

Jason laughs. "Fuckin' pyro," he says.

"Tramp," Dick fires back, biting Jason's throat. He pulls at Jason's collar, says, "This is my shirt."

"Sorry," Jason says, not sounding that way at all. He tugs Dick's hair, says, "You can have it back if you let me blow you."

"Oh," Dick says. He's used to being forward; he's used to _Roy_ , but something about Jason makes him feel like he's half a step behind most of the time.

"It'll be really good," Jason says, sinking down to the floor. "I promise." He works Dick's jeans open, smirks a little when he sees Dick hasn't bothered to put on underwear this morning. Then he wraps his mouth around Dick, looks up at him and just _goes_ , hollowing his cheeks and humming around him and _jesus_ , no wonder he and Bruce are so loud. Dick smacks the table again and again until Jason takes Dick's hand and guides it to his hair and then Dick tangles his fingers in the curls, hips syncing up perfectly with Jason's mouth.

"God," Dick says. "You weren't kidding about being good at this. And you love it, too, don't you? Love having someone just fill you up. Bet you'd love it even more if it was me _and_ Bruce." Jason moans around him, and Dick strokes his cheek, quickens his movements. "Yeah," Dick says. "Bet _he'd_ like that, too."

His eyes roll back in his head when he feels Jason play with his balls, but when he looks back down he sees Jason's hand down Bruce's sweats, and he says, "Don't come yet. I want – oh _fuck_ , Jason, jesus _fuck_ -" he spills into Jason's mouth, pushes Jason off of him and gets a little on Jason's chin, the corner of his mouth. Then he kneels down and grabs Jason's face, licks syrup and come from his face and kisses him.

Jason whines into it, and Dick shushes him, pulls Jason into his lap and sticks his hand down Bruce's sweatpants, gets his hand around Jason and gives him just a few strokes before he's coming, panting into Dick's shoulder as he does.

"Fuck," Jason breathes out. He laughs against Dick's skin, slides down Dick's body bonelessly and then sprawls out on the floor, cock still hanging out of his pants. He's still like that a while later when Bruce comes downstairs, finds Jason on the floor and Dick in the kitchen washing up.

"You seem to be getting along," Bruce says, and Dick doesn't know why it makes him want to break a couple dishes, but it does. He's not jealous of Jason, not really; he _likes_ the kid; he's a good cook, he's fun, and he's got an _incredible_ mouth.

But Bruce –

"I'm taking him out tonight," Dick says. "Might show him a few more things."

"I'm sure he –"

"Don't send him away, okay, Bruce?" Dick asks, and Bruce's eyes go dark, the kind of dark that means someone's about to get _killed_ or –

Bruce brackets his hips with his hands, shoves him against the counter. "I'm not," Bruce says, "sending anyone anywhere. Is that clear?"

Dick nods, and Bruce kisses him, licks the taste of him and Jason from his mouth until well after it's gone. Dick takes Jason out that night and they light fires across the art district, but at the end of the night, Jason ends up back in Bruce's bed.


End file.
